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by AdventureAddict
Summary: Oneshot. To this day, I can still remember the day he found me standing there, with my own fresh blood dripping from my automail. We were both in pain, I had just been oblivious to his.


**This one is kinda depressing. Ye be warned. **

**And NOT elricest unless you decide to make it that way. I was not personally trying to make it anything like that. **

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"I have to go to the bathroom, Al," I lied convincingly. "That was a long train ride." Al nodded, just like he did after I said that every other time we got off the train. Train rides were always a little too much for me, what with all those happy, happy families going on their happy, happy vacations. I think Al knew that those train rides bothered me, he just didn't realize how much until that day.

I went in the bathroom and carefully closed the door. I usually locked he door behind me, but for some reason I didn't that day. Maybe it was because some part of me deep down actually wanted Al to find me, to stop me.

I peeled off my red jacket, then the black one underneath it revealing a heavy metal hand and a paler flesh one. I knew it used to be darker than that, but after years of staying hidden underneath layers of cloth, I had lost the tan I had once carried proudly.

I ran my finger over the pale skin at my wrist. A few pink lines were there, but I knew those cuts would eventually heal seamlessly. So far I hadn't managed to cut myself deep enough to scar myself.

I then took a towel and placed in down at the bottom of the door. Knowing that I was then safe from Al seeing light from the transmutation, I clapped my hands together and formed my automail into the traditional blade that I always used on my enemies, myself included.

I pressed the cool metal against my wrist and felt my muscles relax as I felt the cool blade cut through my skin. Pain. My only true escape.

"Brother? What are you doing?"

I jerked in surprise and then hissed as the blade cut deeper into my wrist. I quickly pulled it away from my skin just as Al stepped in the room. I don't even know how he knew that I wasn't actually going to the bathroom like he said I would.

I can only imagine how I looked like when he found me in the bathroom that day. My pale skin exaggerated by the bright red blood on my wrist, my automail blade dripping with the same blood, and my expression probably matching one of a terrified deer.

I waited for him to say something to me. Something like how I was hurting those around me by myself, or how I had to stop hurting myself, but he was silent. He then took a few steps toward me.

I jerked back like some kind of frightened animal, but he just grabbed my wrist gently and wiped off the blood with one of the large metal fingers on his free hand.

"Al," I started, trying to figure out something to use as an explanation, but as I looked up at him I suddenly stopped, unable to think of any words.

"I love you, Brother," Al said softly. He then let go of my wrist and walked out of the bathroom. Somehow, none of my self-inflicted cuts had managed to hurt as much as the one that had suddenly split my heart in two.

I found him sitting up by himself later that night as he usually did, but unlike other nights, he was unusually silent as I approached him.

"Look, Al," I stared hesitantly, jamming my hands into my pockets. He turned his head to stare at me. I had a feeling that his eyes would have been bloodshot if he was human.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I… I need help. I don't want to do this anymore, but I can't do it by myself. Maybe we could stop traveling for a while and I could see a therapist or something."

"Whatever it takes," Al whispered. "Just get better, okay Brother?" I nodded slowly.

Both of us just stayed frozen in that positing for a moment until I lowered myself to the floor and sat next to Al, hugging my knees to my chest. I rested my head on my knees, wondering when it had gotten this bad. It seemed like it had been going on forever.

"Brother…" Al said slowly, and I looked over at him. "I'll always be here for you, okay? Always. You're my brother. I don't want to lose you too." I grimaced slightly. I knew I had been hurting Al, but somehow it hadn't really mattered before.

"It'll be hard to heal," Al said softly, in a voice that might have qualified as a whisper. "But I will be here for you all the way, no matter how hard it gets. I want you to know that."

"Thanks Al," I said in a voice even softer than the voice he had just used. And for the first time in years, I lost complete control of myself and started crying, my body shaking with sobs. Al patted my back tenderly, and I was suddenly extremely grateful that I had him for a brother rather than anyone else.

Even now, years from then I can still remember that day as clear as anything. It was the first day I started to turn and take a different path. The days after that were hard, just like Al said they would be, but somehow I managed to get through them. I have a feeling I would still be cutting myself if it wasn't for my brother.

I still can't say I'm completely healed since I feel like I'm still getting better, even now. None of the cuts I gave myself were actually deep enough to scar except for the one from that day when Al found me. Somehow, I've never been the same.

But, I'm getting better and I am stronger because of it.

No, I'm not a cutter and I never have been. I've just had two different friends who have. So please don't get mad if some of the details aren't quite right, since I haven't actually experienced those emotions firsthand. Now I'm going to go back to my other stories, which aren't _quite_ as depressing as this one, at last in my mind they aren't. TTFN!


End file.
